


Les Magicians Dangereux

by dollsome



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 17:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18238205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollsome/pseuds/dollsome
Summary: George Michael and Maeby decide to throw a family dinner to tell Michael and Lindsay about their relationship. They invite Gob and Tony along in the hopes that everyone’s favorite magician husbands will provide a much-needed distraction. It goes about how you’d expect. (And Steve Holt and Ann Veal are there too for some reason?)





	Les Magicians Dangereux

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be a little drabble in response to the prompt "Blunder, 'Your eyes are beautiful'" from jenny-calendar over on Tumblr, but then it grew. It's a monsterrrrrrrrrr.
> 
> There is so much poignant, funny, super incredible fanfiction in this fandom that reveals such depth in these characters while staying so faithful to the absurd tone of the show.
> 
> ... this is not that fanfiction. I did really enjoy getting to write 3,000 words of ridiculous Bluth family banter, though. That must count for something!
> 
> Spoilers through Season 5-B. Apologies in advance if any of this contradicts anything in canon; I haven't seen s2 and s3 in quite awhile so the details in my brain re: that era are extremely fuzzy! I also apologize for the extremely merry tone this takes toward first-cousin-once-removed (or whatever they now are) incest, but also, I blame the show itself for that one.
> 
> I would also like to take a moment to love on [This is the Backbone of America](https://archiveofourown.org/works/897931) by scioscribe, which is the reason why I cannot help but put Steve Holt and Ann Veal next to each other in everything AD-related that I imagine.

****Once they’ve decided that this relationship isn’t something that’s going away, George Michael and Maeby decide to test the waters by inviting a few Bluths to dinner to break the news. They choose Michael and Lindsay, who seem to be the most level-headed options (“level-headed” here being a relative term, due to the lack of level-headed relatives in the Bluth family).

Then it dawns on them just how uncomfortable things will probably get with only the four of them there. There are some things you just don’t want to do in a quartet. Like dancing a tango. Or telling your respective parents, who are brother and sister in bond if not in fact, that you’re in love with your cousin(-...ish relation) and want to go steady.

So in an act of panic, both George Michael and Maeby send out a flurry of invitations to try to score more dinner guests and alleviate the awkwardness potential. This achieves some results.

The final guest list is as follows:

  * Dad/Uncle Michael (“Well,” says Maeby, “cousin Michael.”)
  * Mom/Aunt Lindsay (“Well,” says George Michael, “great aunt Lindsay.”)
  * Uncle Gob (“Well,” says Maeby, “cousin Gob.” “Good pick,” says George Michael. “Who’s more distracting than cousin Gob? Er. Uncle Gob.”)
  * Uncle/Cousin Gob’s Husband, Tony Wonder (“I guess he’s still just Tony Wonder. That’s convenient.”)
  * Steve Holt (“Do we want to figure out the logistics of the whole ‘Primos’ thing, or just call him Steve Holt?” “Nah, Steve Holt works.”)
  * Ann Veal (“Why?” “... I honestly don’t know. I was browsing Facebook and I panicked. She’s nice, though.”)



“So my ex-boyfriend and your ex-girlfriend are coming,” Maeby says. “And your ex-girlfriend has also slept with Uncle-Cousin Gob and Uncle-Cousin Gob’s husband, and my ex-boyfriend is Uncle-Cousin Gob’s son. I’ll say one thing: we did a stellar job picking out guests who’ll make it a less awkward evening.”

“It’s a tangled web,” George Michael acknowledges. “Does that make our thing seem more incestuous than it is already?”

“I don’t know,” says Maeby, “but I love that we’ve got a relationship where we get to ask those questions. Keeps things fresh, you know?”

“Les cousins dangereux,” says George Michael, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah, that’s never been cute,” Maeby says.

“Well, I think that’s debatable,” says George Michael.

* * *

The big night arrives. George Michael and Maeby’s plan to cook dinner for everyone and show how adult and capable of good decision-making they are is thwarted by the fact that the kitchen appliances aren’t exactly the most reliable at the model home. Nor do they really know how to cook anything. (“There’s a recipe for hot ham water in here,” George Michael announces after checking all the cabinets, “but that’s it.”)

They wind up ordering copious amounts of Chinese takeout and arranging the cartons artfully on the table.

Which is kind of like being an adult.

Plus, they buy hipstery fruit-flavored sparkling water to go with it. It’s pomegranate. Only grown-ass adults fuck with pomegranate.

“We should start our own hipster sparkling water empire,” Maeby says with that familiar gleam in her eye. “We could call it FakeJuice.”

“I really think we shouldn’t put ‘Fake’ in the name of anything. Or have anything to do with juice,” George Michael says, “since, you know. Uncle Buster.”

“What, like juiceaholism runs in the family? Newsflash, dude: I can drink juice all day.”

“You really shouldn’t. The amount of sugar, it’s crazy. It’s basically the same as chugging soda. But no -- like, the Bluths are already kind of notorious for pleading ‘juice madness’ in court. I think we should, you know, lean away from juice as a concept publicly.”

“Or should we lean in? Gangie says Uncle-Cousin Buster’s really flourishing in prison.”

“Well, yeah,” says George Michael. “There’s a lot of structure and staying inside and no juice.”

“Uncle-Cousin Buster’s FakeJuice Fizzy Water. So good, yet so sugar-free it’ll keep you from committing manslaughter!” Maeby nods approvingly. “Yeah, I think we’ve got something here. Especially, like, marketed by us? It’d be dynamite. It’d be the anti-Cornballer.”

“You need to stop,” says George Michael.

“Look out, La Croix. We’re coming for you, motherfuckers.”

“Such a deeply strange person,” George Michael says. Fondly, though.

* * *

Everyone who’s invited to dinner shows up, which is either great or terrible.

Gob and Tony Wonder breeze in with their arms around each other, dressed in subtly color coordinated outfits; a dove comes in with them and starts flapping madly through the model home before escaping out the door.

“Damn it!” Gob says, watching the blur of white disappear. “That was our housewarming gift.”

“Well, this isn’t a housewarming,” George Michael says tactfully, “so that’s okay.”

“And we don’t want a dove, man,” says Maeby less tactfully. “What would we even do with that?”

“Oh, right,” says Gob, meeting Tony’s eyes with derisive amusement. “I always forget how the non-magician half live.”

“They’re cute, huh?” Tony replies.

The husbands snicker condescendingly as they continue into the house.

“Do they really think half the human population is made up of magicians?” Maeby muses.

George Michael sighs. “They think a lot of things, Maeby.”

Steve Holt spends fifteen chivalrous minutes trying to chase down the dove before he finally gives up and comes inside, a little sweaty and pink-faced but smiling. (Gob thanks him for his efforts even though they failed, which is really a testament to how married life has improved him.) Then Ann shows up wearing an aggressively beige cardigan and carrying a homemade flan. It puts the Chinese take-out cartons to shame in terms of presentation.

Michael and Lindsay get there last, in accordance with George Michael and Maeby’s plan that their dinner party already be flourishing by the time the parents arrive. They’re genuinely pleased to see their children, what with Michael and George Michael’s long rift healed and Lindsay finally committed to becoming a parent who actually pays attention.

“I kind of wish we were still fighting with them,” George Michael mutters to Maeby after the round of affectionate hello hugs.

“I know, right?” says Maeby wistfully. “It’d be nice if I felt like pissing them off.”

* * *

Everyone settles down and politely pretends that George Michael and Maeby are responsible for creating the feast in front of them, cartons and all. Soon, the plates are full and the pomegranate sparkling water is flowing and there’s nothing left to do but make the announcement.

George Michael taps his can of sparkling water with a chopstick repeatedly. Regret consumes him as soon as everyone’s eyes are on him.

_I’ve made a huge mistake._

Where’s that from?

He clears his throat. “We’ve called you all here today because … because Maeby and I are … well, we’re … well … the French would call it dangereuxing … les-cousins-ishly …”

“No,” Maeby says. “Uh uh.”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, haven’t ya?” Michael says cheerily. Maybe too cheerily.

“You have!” Lindsay agrees effusively. “I’ve seen all those pictures you’ve been posting together on Instagram, where I follow you, because you’re my daughter and I _care_ , sweetheart. Even if you could rethink your choice of filters.”

“Thanks Mom,” Maeby says, weary.

“I understand social media,” Lindsay adds to Steve Holt and Ann, who -- while clearly uncool -- are also young-ish, and therefore worth impressing on this matter. “I’m not one of those dull, un-hip almost-middle-aged women.”

“We’re still sticking with almost-middle-aged, huh?” remarks Michael.

“Social media is a breeding ground for vice and stupidity,” Ann says, unimpressed by Lindsay.

“I like We Rate Dogs on Twitter,” Steve Holt says.

“Except We Rate Dogs on Twitter,” Ann amends.

“That’s great,” George Michael says impatiently, “that’s all great, but, um, my point was--”

Michael carries on in the same too-nonchalant tone, “Speaking of the cousins--”

“I wouldn’t say ‘cousins’, exactly--”

“--I thought I saw you two doing a little smooching back at the wall unveiling six months ago, but my eyes must have been playing tricks on me, huh?” Michael laughs. It’s not a totally chill laugh.

“Well, yeah, no, actually,” says George Michael; he’s never felt less like a man who owns his own pair of matador pants. Where’d those go, anyway? “That was because we’re, um … er …”

“DATING,” Maeby interrupts loudly. “And you can’t ground us! We’re grown-ass adults!”

“Real grown-ass!” George Michael chimes in as best he can.

“And it’s perfectly legal, probably!” Maeby asserts.

Both of them have, at separate times, tried to search online for ‘is it legal in the state of california to marry your great aunt’s daughter/cousin’s son.’ The results have been inconclusive.

Now both George Michael and Maeby wish they’d searched a little harder.

Michael, Lindsay, Steve Holt, and Ann are all staring at them.

“You don’t mean …” says Lindsay.

“They don’t mean …” Michael reassures her, then looks, wide-eyed, at George Michael. “Do you?”

“What did I tell you?” says Ann. “It was all that Instagram.”

It’s the stuff right out of everyone’s worst ‘telling your parents that you’re dating a family member’ nightmares. It’s easy, all of a sudden, to feel sympathy for those mean blondes on Game of Thrones.

But there are two people at the table who aren’t paying any attention.

“You have beautiful eyes,” Tony tells Gob. They’re staring at each other adoringly.

“Oh yeah?”

“ _Hell_ yeah.”

“Well, you’ve got a cute chin.”

“Really? I was always kind of self-conscious about it. Hence the goatee.”

“Please. The only thing sexier than that chin is the goatee growing on it.” Gob traces the pink W reverently. Michael winces. “You know, W’s the sexiest letter of the alphabet.”

“Really? I thought it was G.”

“G?” Gob frowns. “That’s a weird pick-- _oh_. I see what you’re doing.”

“You’ll see what I’m _going_ to do.” Tony leans in and starts whispering about what he’s going to do. Soon. When they covertly sneak into the bathroom in like five minutes. Or even just over to the kitchen.

It’s -- though this probably goes without saying -- very sexual.

Everyone stares at them. It’s hard not to stare when two people are failing so utterly at whispering right in front of you.

“What???” Gob demands, breaking out of the love bubble. (Or, to be more accurate, the ‘sexy whispering you really shouldn’t do around company’ bubble.) “You act like you’ve never seen two men in love before.”

“Not like this,” Michael says. “But to be fair, I don’t think anyone has.”

“You’re damn right,” Gob snarls.

“So small-minded,” Tony says with an admonitory head-shake.

“You know what we should do that’ll really show ‘em?” Gob says.

“RENEW OUR VOWS AT THE GOTHIC CASTLE IN TWO WEEKS AND PERFORM A CELEBRATORY ILLUSION IN FRONT OF EVERYONE TO COMMEMORATE THE OCCASION,” they cry in delighted unison, then fist-bump.

“How do they do that?” Michael wonders aloud.

“One second, hon,” Tony says mid-victory kiss. (That fist bump really escalated.) “Business.”

“Oh, sure,” says Gob easily.

Tony ducks under the table, then jumps up on the other side of it in a flash of smoke. “Did somebody say … _WONDER_?”

Gob claps. So does Steve Holt. Ann coughs and waves the smoke away from her face.

“No,” Michael says. “I mean, I _was_ wondering, but I didn’t say the actual word.”

“Oh,” says Tony, deflating. “Okay. Sometimes people kind of think aloud, narrate what’s going through their head. You know: ‘I wonder how they do that,’ that kind of thing.”

“I bet,” Michael says.

“But if you didn’t, let’s let that one slide, huh?”

“Let’s,” Michael agrees.

Tony dips back down under the table, then reemerges next to Gob.

“So, uh, anyway,” George Michael proceeds, oddly reassured by his uncles’ relationship moxy, “back to me and Maeby. We’re … we’re together, and we know that might be weird for you guys, but we’d appreciate it if you would respect our--”

“Deal with it, suckers,” a similarly inspired Maeby interjects, clinking her pomegranate sparkling water against George Michael’s with gusto.

But their moment of triumph, they quickly realize, is actually a bit of a letdown. Everyone is too busy staring at Gob and Tony in vague horror to react to the news that the somewhat-cousins are officially an item.

To be fair, Gob and Tony have progressed impossibly fast from moony-eyed gazing to eating Gob’s lo mein noodles Lady and the Tramp style, which quickly evolves into kissing passionately.

“Pretty sure there’s still some noodle in there,” Michael says, grimacing.

“I guess when it’s true love you don’t care,” George Michael says weakly. “... even if you should.”

“Are they kissing or feeding each other like birds?” Maeby speculates.

“Little bit of both, I think,” Michael says. “Little bit of both.”

“At least they’re having more fun with each other than they ever did with me,” says Ann.

“That’s beautiful for my two dads,” says Steve Holt earnestly. “But also sad for you. I’m sorry.”

“No,” says Ann, “it’s better this way.”

“Honestly, buddy,” says Michael at last, forcing his attention back to George Michael, “next to … all that, it’s hard to be hung up on the whole confusing incest thing.”

Michael, too, has tried to search online for ‘what to call your sister-who’s-actually-your-aunt’s daughter-who’s-actually-not-your-niece,’ with no definitive results.

“That’s kind of why we invited them,” George Michael admits.

“I can respect that,” says Michael. “Just, um, no procreation, okay?”

“Right, of course not,” George Michael says.

“Please,” Maeby scoffs with a hand wave way too old for her. “I’m retired. My child-bearing years are long over.”

“We’re letting Annette die, remember?” George Michael murmurs, catching Maeby’s hand and lowering it gently.

“Right,” says Maeby, frowning.

George Michael continues to his father, “It’s morally irresponsible to bring more babies into the world anyway when you can adopt, you know? Help kids who need it.”

“I want to adopt your babies,” Gob declares rhapsodically to Tony.

“No way! Really?” Tony asks, psyched. “That would be a huge help, actually. Flan’s been on me to spend more time with our kid, and it’d be way more fun with you there.”

“I was thinking new ones, and maybe some more bees, but yeah, that totally works too!”

“Oh, we’ll do new ones too. New ones and old ones and bees.”

“I’ll adopt yours if you adopt mine,” Gob says with entirely too much inexplicable innuendo.

“That sounded way dirtier than it had any right to,” George Michael says.

“I know, right?” Maeby replies with a chuckle of approval.

“TWO DADS!” Steve Holt cries.

“THAT’S RIGHT, SON!” Gob says zestfully.

“Don’t encourage them,” Ann says under her breath to Steve.

“Who said that?” says Michael.

Everybody stays quiet. Ann rolls her eyes.

“I could have sworn somebody said something. Lindsay?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Lindsay says. “I _haven’t_ said anything. I’m shocked into silence, Michael. I can’t believe this.”

“It is a little disturbing,” Michael says, patting her arm. “Who would have thought our kids would wind up together like, uh, like that--”

“... _Gob_ is having a vow renewal before me?” Lindsay finishes.

“Right,” Michael says, pulling away. “The real issue at hand.”

Lindsay turns her indignation on Gob. “It’s like you just can’t handle the fact that Tobias and I are the strongest couple in this family.”

“Come on,” Gob scoffs. “Your relationship is the biggest geo-bead --- … some-other-term-that-means-bad-thing there is.”

“It doesn’t seem so bad to me,” Tony mutters to Gob.

“They’re doing way better now. You missed a lot of stuff,” Gob mutters back.

“Huh,” says Tony.

Gob switches back to Lindsay. “ _You’re_ just judgmental of our strongest couple status because we’re both men. Two hot, horny, emotionally committed men.”

“Please,” Lindsay retorts. “My husband says more gay things in an hour than you have in your whole sorry life.”

“... That checks out, actually,” says Gob, shrugging.

Lindsay preens. Off everybody’s confused looks, she adds, “Oh, it’s fine. He’s not gay when it counts, believe me. We’re having a lot of fun figuring that out lately. Can you believe it’s taken us so long?”

“BRB, gotta die.” Maeby moves to get up from the table, presumably in search of death. George Michael drags her back down.

“I guess we really needed those years apart to realize what we actually meant to each other. And now it’s like …”

“A new start?” Michael says grimly.

“Exactly!” Lindsay replies, pleased. “Like, this morning, for example, I was in the shower and--”

Michael pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t continue.”

“Fine,” Lindsay pouts. “I’ll just save all my fun anecdotes for the sex therapy book that Tobias has been working on. _In Her Flame, Her: One Man’s Erotic Journey Back To His Queen._ That’s me.” She giggles. “I’m the queen.”

“Whose inner flamer?” Gob asks, momentarily distracted from making flirty faces at Tony. “Pretty dated lingo, bee-tee-dubs.”

“Yikes,” Tony agrees.

“It’s poetic,” Lindsay insists, glaring at them. “In fact, it’s a line from an ode he wrote to my--” Lindsay considers Maeby’s despairing expression. “--... face.”

“Great,” says Michael. “I can’t wait to put that on my To Not Read Ever list.”

“If it makes our family that 50 Shades of Grey smut money, I support it,” Maeby says grudgingly.

Lindsay beams. “Thanks, honey!”

“Moving right on.” To Gob and Tony, Michael says, “It _is_ a bit much, guys. Lindsay and Tobias have got more than twenty years of marriage under their belts. Kind of. Maybe wait until you’ve been married for a full month before you do the vow renewal.”

“Pfft. We can wait when we’re dead. Which I thought you maybe were for awhile there,” Gob adds, his demeanor shifting from defiant to tragic as he looks back at Tony.

“I know,” Tony says, his expression darkening. “I hate thinking of you in all that pain. Damn those Gay Mafia goons.”

“What is this ‘Gay Mafia’ thing you guys keep talking about?” Michael demands. “Is that some kind of in-joke? What is that? Because I have to say: I’m not getting it.”

But Gob and Tony pay him no mind. There’s the weirdly specific sense that, as they stare at each other, music is playing that only the two of them can hear. It’s really sort of uncomfortable to be in the presence of. It’s intimate, and for once not in a ‘stop groping each other under the table’ way.

“Flan?” Michael interrupts for the good of the party, holding out the dish.

“So now you acknowledge that I exist,” says Ann, huffing.

“Huh?” says Michael.

“It’s really good flan, Ann,” says Steve Holt without a trace of irony.

Ann’s expression softens. “Thank you.”

“If they date too,” George Michael mumbles, “how bad does it look for us?”

Maeby shrugs hopelessly.

“I bet you wish you hadn’t waited to renew your vows with your wife, Michael,” Gob says meanwhile, “because, you know … dead.”

“Thanks for that,” Michael says. “That’s a great point, Gob. Sensitively made, as always.”

“No problem,” says Gob sincerely.

“Ahh! How do you look at that face and not want to marry it every damn day?” Tony demands, kissing Gob’s cheek. Gob turns into the human version of that emoji with hearts for eyes.

“... Him?” says Michael.

Ann lets out a noise that might be laughter.

“Well,” mutters George Michael to Maeby, “this is going about as well as could be expected, huh?”

“Honestly,” Maeby replies pragmatically, “I think this works for us. What are the odds that these two idiots don’t wind up humping on the table in the next ten to fifteen minutes?”

George Michael looks at his uncles.

“Low,” he determines.

“Exactly. After that, who can judge a couple of mature, responsible semi-cousins for dating?” Maeby smirks.

“Hey, yeah,” says George Michael, grinning.

They stealthily high five.

When Gob and Tony knock all the dishes off the table twelve minutes later in what is either the start of a passionate embrace or an impromptu magic trick (sometimes it’s hard to tell), George Michael and Maeby become real contenders for second strongest couple in the family. And by golly, they’ll take it.


End file.
